


The Quality of Mercy

by MrProphet



Category: The Wardstone Chronicles - Joseph Delaney
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10696602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	The Quality of Mercy

The young witch twitched and wriggled, but the silver chain held her arms pinned to her sides. Her eyes rolled wildly and her nostrils flared as she sucked in desperate, panicked breaths and fought not to whimper or showed weakness. She was young – younger than Alice, so she could hardly be a witch at all yet, just a girl from a really bad family – but she knew better than to try to beg for mercy from Old Gregory.

I tried not to look at her.

The Spook stopped. “Can you feel that?” he asked me.

“Feel what, sir?” I asked.

“There’s something up ahead, in between us and the house,” the Spook told me. “You go on ahead and see if you can see what it is. I’ll keep watch on our prisoner.”

Somewhat reluctantly, I gripped my staff and set off into the trees. If the Spook wanted me to investigate instead of going himself then he was probably fairly confident that I could handle it. He was not infallible, however, and neither was he above sending me into grave danger as a test; therefore I tried to be prepared for anything.

What I found was nothing. Nothing at all. I knew it almost as soon as I had left the Spook’s side. The only trace of the Dark was the witch I had left behind with the Spook.

I doubled back and saw a thing I had never expected to see. I saw the Spook, Old Gregory, loosing the chain from around the witch’s body.

“Go,” he told her. “The boy will be back soon.”

My left hand stole to my belt; this could only mean one thing. I stepped out from the trees and swept my hand out in a wide arc. It was a perfect throw which sent the chain looping through the air and coiling neatly around the Spook’s body and arms.

“What foolishness is this?” the Spook demanded. “Thomas…!” he began, but I thrust my staff into the soft ground and reached into my pockets, sending clouds of salt and iron flying into my master’s face.

He recoiled with a furious roar and his face  _split_ , revealing a too-wide mouth and teeth like knives. I wasn’t surprised. The Spook never lets anyone go; this ‘Spook’ let someone go; therefore, this wasn’t my master.

I let the girl go. I had to get a powerful and enraged shapeshifter back to the house and somehow find out where the real Spook was, and then rescue him before it was too late.

And I’m not the Spook.


End file.
